All Very Romantic
by tFantasyFan
Summary: The first consideration and the first acknowledgment of the desire. Kissing, Sanji-style.


_Have some SanUso. There are more hidden around livejournal or something, but I'm too lazy to get them all._

_Disclaimer: Wow, been a while. Not. Mine._

* * *

The first time Sanji considers kissing Usopp- really actually thinks about it instead of brushing it away like a horrible nightmare vision- is on Skypeia. He is nineteen years old and hopeless, and ten thousand meters above the Grand Line _(their location tells him that nothing is really impossible, so this can't be either),_ and he's dragging the guy along for all that he's _(for all that they're both)_ terrified. And it happens in that moment before they start climbing the ark, Usopp looking rightfully unwilling- shaking like a dry leaf in the breeze, wondering if the bandages are the only thing holding his composure together-

_(there's something oddly painful about the sight, foreboding, like Sanji can't stand to see it)_

-and even though he obviously doesn't want to go on a suicide mission like this there's a serene acceptance beneath that shaking, a resolve that is _(glorious, burning, beautiful)_ subtly present. And because he knows Usopp better than Usopp knows Usopp, somehow, always has- Sanji knows that Usopp is _not going to leave his nakama alone on that ship_, God or no God.

They stare up.

If they don't get killed they're definitely still going to get hurt, they have no idea how to stop a lightning-man, no real guarantee they'll manage to save Nami at all. It shouldn't be all that frightening, climbing up when they're already so far above the real sea, but it is- it is and he's going to do it anyway because Nami needs someone to help her and because Sanji expects him to be brave enough for it.

Usopp tries not to whimper. He is not successful.

Sanji is still hopeless and in an impossible situation; and maybe it's that Nami-san wasn't wearing her t-shirt when he saw her or maybe it's the fact that Usopp smells more like gunpowder than ever, or maybe that shitheaded diver and his followers have rubbed off on him at long last, because in _that moment _he shoves his hands into his pockets to keep them in control-

_(would his hair be as soft as Nami-san's and Robin-chan's look, is his skin oily because of all the time he spends inventing_)

-because _that moment _seems suddenly very romantic. Not to mention it would shut Usopp up more successfully than anything else Sanji could do, even if he's curious about _(wants to know, needs to know)_ whether or not Usopp tastes something like cigarettes because of that gunpowder smell. Adrenaline and nicotine and pointless hesitation, something that sounds just about perfect in his head and transcends perfection in the twinge in his chest.

The rope latches onto the side of the ark. The romantic moment passes.

Sanji chocks it up to lightning-induced brain damage later.

_(even if he still thinks about finding time to kiss Usopp before taking a fucking blast of lightning for him, doesn't he deserve that much)_

--

The first time Sanji kisses Usopp- actually _kisses_ him, in a big sweeping gesture that would curl the toes of any right-minded woman because he's suddenly certain that Usopp deserves no less- Sanji thinks it may also be the last so he makes sure to get as far as he can while he can. He is still nineteen and is foolish and the city behind them is the most fucked-up place they've ever been to; he is afraid _(terrified) _to let go of those thin, bandaged shoulders _(never again, never losing him again, never seeing him like that again)_ even though he's also afraid he'll hurt Usopp even more, even though there's no way in hell the guy will be leaving again _(if he does, if he even thinks about it, there'll be hell to pay)_

It is a moment of utter weakness but one he thinks he's been planning for- no problems getting around that nose, his hands go right for the waist and his arms wrap around and there are no complications _(perfect, it's perfect, something like it)_

Usopp does not taste like cigarettes, disappointing though it is-

_(he tastes like this morning's scrambled eggs and toothpaste and sweat and fright and pheromones)_

-and for a moment time is kind enough to freeze and let him enjoy it. _(if he weren't so composed, being this romantic, his toes might be curling, too because it feels like something he's __**supposed **__to be doing__)_

For all that it freezes, it moves on again, because Usopp tenses, flinches, rapid-fire reactions that have always been his first choice and last resort. When he's recovered enough to place two hands on that chest and push back, he's also grown enough courage to ask when.

_(Something speaks in Sanji's chest, whispers __**Always**__-)_

Sanji likes the feeling of that whisper-

_(always always always always, always always always) _

-and it sings in the tips of his fingers until he's almost dizzy with it, so it has to be the right answer, feels more right the more he thinks of it. Except that Usopp's staring at him the way he stares at sea kings, absolutely terrified of the prospect of that word, what it would mean, so it can't be right for now. He steals another kiss _(it's worth two kisses, maybe three, but it's making up for lost time and this could be his only chance)_ and says "when I felt like it."

_(his stolen kisses are stolen back) _And if Usopp could just see his face in _this moment, _the way he could see it-

_(there were miles of it, that look, stretched before him like a guiding road- miles of _look_, miles of lips, heavy and fighting and terrified; he could have given it wings and watched it fly)_

-he would understand 'why' without having to ask.


End file.
